


learning to hate you as a self defense mechanism *TRIGGER WARNING*

by orphan_account



Series: septiplier dump ღ [2]
Category: Septiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: All characters aside from mark and jack are only mentioned, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Depression, Heavy Angst, I Made Myself Cry, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Post-Break Up, Suicide, Suicide and self-harm and severe depression, The Author Regrets Everything, Triggers, im sorry, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 22:05:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12803373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: was it my faultbecause i easily confused youfor someone who would hold my handwhen things got hardwhen things got darkbecause oh my godwhen they get darkthey get so dark





	learning to hate you as a self defense mechanism *TRIGGER WARNING*

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry.  
> heavy trigger warning.

     Mark knew he shouldn’t want it.

     He knew he shouldn’t want Jack back.

     It’d been four months now. Four months after Mark finally left his ex-boyfriend, Sean “Jack” McLoughlin. Four months now and he still missed Jack.

     He shouldn’t feel this way.

     Jack had emotionally abused him. He’d been diagnosed with severe PTSD. He couldn’t get through a day without cutting.

     Four months now and he hadn’t uploaded a single video.

     Four months now and he hadn’t talked to any of his friends.

     Four months now and he hadn’t stopped wishing that he wouldn’t have ended it with Jack.

     It’s such a weird thing; to fall in love, and love with all you’ve got, and never let go even if it’d be easier to. It’s so hard to love, to become dependent on another living person, to lay your life in he hands of another. It’s so hard to trust and to let people in. It’s so, _so_ hard to forget.

     It’s such a weird thing; to have your heart broken by the person who knew all your secrets, had seen every part of you and fixed every part of you, saw you through the hardest times in your life. And it’s even stranger to have the person who fixed you break you so terribly you have no idea what to do with yourself. So strange, to have the person who saw you through the hard times create a time that has been worse than anything you’ve ever felt.

     How do you _come back_ from that? They say there’s always a silver lining, always a bright side, because even when one side of the Earth is in the depths of night, there’s another side soaking in the sun’s rays.

     Four months and Mark was still looking for that silver lining, that bright side.

     Four months, and Mark had lost everything. The love of his life. His happiness. His will to live. His healthiness. He didn’t remember what it was to smile or laugh, and he couldn’t remember the taste of food or the feeling of sunshine. Genuine sunshine; sunshine you could feel soaking into your body, seeping into your insides, sunshine that made you feel… _okay._

 _  
_      Four months and Mark had yet to feel okay.

     He stopped going to his therapist.

     He paid Ethan for editing even though there were no videos to edit.

     He stared at his phone as it went off, call after call, text after text, mention after mention.

     He did not pick it up.

     Sometimes, he’d lay in bed and stare at the ceiling for hours on end, not getting up to use the bathroom or eat. As if the ceiling was the answer, and if he looked long enough, it’d spell out what came next for him.

     Sometimes, he went days without eating a thing, or without getting out of bed, or without showering, or changing his clothes.

     Four months, and Mark was only getting more and more broken with every passing moment, with every memory, with every _thought_ of his ex-boyfriend.

     People rang the doorbell and he stayed in bed.

     Conventions passed and he never went to a _single one._

     He ordered his food online. God knows he wasn’t leaving his house.

     The people in his neighborhood were worried about him; even the ones he’d never spoken to other than friendly “Hello, how are you doing?”s and “I’m okay, thanks for asking.”s and “Have a nice day!”s.

     Felix had flown in from England once, so worried and unable to get a hold of Mark that he just got desperate.

     Mark did not open to door.

     Another call.

     Mark did not pick it up.

     Text after text after text- who was _texting him so much-_ and more texts, all left unread.

     Once, he accidentally laid on his phone and opened his messages. This had been… maybe yesterday. He didn’t track the time anymore.

     Of course it was his messages with Jack. His ex had been texting him non-stop.

_‘_ _m_ _ark…_ _please forgive me._ _w_ _hat_ _i_ _did was wrong,_ _i know… i just want you back. you mean everything to me. i cant lose you.’_

_‘mark?’_

_‘mark’_

_‘felix told me he went there and you didnt open the door’_

     A couple of days with no texts, and then more:

_‘_ _mark’_

_‘are you even alive????’_

_‘you havent posted on your channel in so long’_

_‘where are you?’_

_‘mark?’_

     That’s when the half-Korean accidentally opened the chat, and instantly, there was a barrage of texts, a non-stop stream.

     ‘ _mark oh my gof you read these’_

_‘i lovr you’_

_‘im sorry’_

_‘come back’_

_‘let me fly there. im goign to help’_

     Mark thought he might be sick. He could’ve just blocked the number, but instead he typed a message in response, not even feeling his fingers moving. They had a mind of their own.

_‘_ _i fucking hate you, you douchebag._ _y_ _ou broke me._ _y_ _ou broke my heart._ _i_ _cant get out of bed._ _i_ _cant eat._ _i_ _cant even take a fucking shower._ _e_ _verything reminds me of you, all you._ _y_ _ou you you you and_ _i_ _fucking hate it,_ _i_ _fucking hate you for what you did to me because all you do is hurt me over and over again and god fucking dammit sean._ _i_ _love you but_ _i_ _cant._ _i_ _cant do this._ _o_ _cant fucking do this anymore._ _i_ _cant stand you._ _you used me, showed me off, told me you loved me and showered me with gifts. called me your fucking cumslut, your whore. you smiled for the camera but behind closed fucking doors you yelled and you fucked yelled and you never stopped yelling, i dont even think you have a voice anymore. you yelled at me and told me to leave you alone, told me i make everything worse and that i should just fuck off and get out of your life. well guess what sean, im gone. im long fcking gone, isnt that what you wanted? you dont miss me, you miss using me, you miss calling me your dirty whore and you miss finding reason to fucking yell about everything i do and you fucking miss hurting me, you miss making me cry, you miss hearing me sob wuen i asked you to stop fucking yelling. you miss telling me to fuck off only to ask to have me back a couple days later because you KNEW i didntt knoow how to say no. fuck you sean. i hope youre fucking happy because maybe ill just fucking kill myself huh? kill muself and itll all be your fault.you did thid. you broke me and you fucked everything up and you dont care. maybe ill fucking kill myself. maybe ill even livestream it. i guess well have to fucking see, you piece of shit. you dont love me. dont lie to me like you always do.’_

     Then he told Mark he was coming down there.

     Now, it was… he actually got his phone out… 3:43 AM that same night. He knew his ex was on his way. He didn’t want to be here when he arrived, even if he had another four hours to go.

     He turned on his phone camera, switching it to the front facing view. He changed the mode to video and pressed the button.

     He had no clue what he was doing.

     He hadn’t showered in a week or changed his clothes in two. His hair hadn’t been combed in months. His self-harm scars were noticeable, he knew, in the lamp light. There were quite a few fresh ones, actually.

     But he was recording.

     “Hi.” He stopped, blinking. “It’s been a while. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I wanted to apologize to _everyone_ for my existence. This is the last video you’ll see from me in a long, long time. Forever’s a really long time, at least, so… haha. Anyway.”

     You could _see_ how broken he was in his eyes. How pale he was. How thin and… absent.

     “First, I wanted to say sorry to Bob and Wade. You guys knew me for a long time. I’m sorry for that. I’ve always been shit to both of you, I’ve never deserved either of you and you’re going to be better off without me, trust me. You’ll both be okay.”

     He cleared his throat. “Uh, next, Tyler. You’ve been my friend since fourth grade and I’m sorry that you ever met me because I’ve never done anything good for you. I’ve just been a burden.

     “Next, Ethan. Haven’t known you very long but I’m sorry I had to taint your pure existence with mine. I hope you find someone better to edit for. Shouldn’t be very hard.”

     Mark hadn’t noticed the tears spilling down his cheeks until now, or how uncontrollably shaky he was. He couldn’t help but think, _Wow, this video is gonna be terrible quality._

     He laughed bitterly in spite of himself.

     “Felix. We’ve been friends for a while. Sorry I leeched off your channel and became a shittier version of you. I wish you well, man.

     “And my fans. Sorry you found me. I’m making your life better now. Don’t worry. I just wanted all of you- you guys and all the fans- to know that it’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourselves.

     “I just couldn’t get over this guy I really loved. He used me a lot.”

     A long pause of around a minute.

     “Sean.”

     Where was he going with this?

     “I hope you’re happy now. Without me. Now that I'm gone."

     Oh. He surprised himself.

     He turned off the recording, heading straight to YouTube. He started the upload, sitting it on his end table so it could finish.

     A reach for his keys.

     A turn of the doorknob.

     The start of an engine and the slam of a car door.

     He gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles faded into a shade of ghostly white. Determination hardened in his eyes.

     He drove recklessly down CA- 110 N, not giving a shit about what might happen or the consequences. The highway was much more quiet than usual, though not stranded.

     Seventeen silent, eerie minutes later, he parked his car, walking up the hill to the beginning of the Colorado Street Bridge.

     His feet were silent, walking all on their own, as if they knew this path. They knew this was going to happen, and they’d been preparing for it.

     And he came to a stop, climbing over the guard rail and then climbing up a column of the bridge’s side. There were high, pointed rails to stop people from jumping.

     He’d passed multiple signs about there being help, decorated wherever it possibly could be with the Suicide Prevention Hotline’s number. _Suicide isn’t an option._

     He climbed over the pointed rail, scraping his thighs and stomach as he did.

_Suicide isn’t an option._

     He nestled his feet into the small over hang on the other side of the rail, closing his eyes. The air was clear up here. His toes hung into nothingness, his heels barely on the bride. A breeze blew, making his hair swing wildly and his clothes pull every which way.

_Suicide isn’t an option._

     His arms spread out like they were meant to do it, and he breathed in. If he tried hard enough, he could imagine he was flying.

_Suicide isn’t an option._

     He lifted a foot, holding it entirely over the edge for a few seconds before drawing it back. And he didn’t stop the small, bitter smile that appeared on his features.

_Suicide isn’t an option._

     He felt so light. All he was now was air, and that’s all he was supposed to be. He felt… _free._

_Suicide isn’t an option._

     Countdown.

_Suicide isn’t an option._

     Five.

_Suicide isn’t an option._

     Four.

_Suicide isn’t an option._

     Three.

_Suicide isn’t an option._

     Two.

_Suicide isn’t an option._

_One._

     His feet stepped off of solid ground. He was flying. He was free. He was… _free._ His hair flew back, and wind whipped against his body. This was magic. He was flying. He was free.

_I am… free. This is what freedom is. This is… happiness._

     And then there was nothing. No loneliness or pain.

     Just...  _nothing._

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry.  
> based on personal experience with an abusive ex and the aftermath of an abusive relationship.
> 
> suicide is NEVER what you should do, after a break up or after anything. its a permanent solution to a temporary problem and by leaving this world youd hurt so many people. theres always a chance to be happy; keep that in mind.


End file.
